


Falling Slowly

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: "someone write me a Jogan songfic to “Falling Slowly” thanks"





	Falling Slowly

_I don't know you_

_But I want you_

_All the more for that_

“Seat taken?” 

Julian’s smirking beneath his sunglasses, but when the blond he’d spoken to looks up, his grin falters. The other boy quirks an eyebrow in amusement, and Julian’s momentarily stunned by the most gorgeous pair of emerald eyes he’s ever seen. He steadies himself quickly enough and sits, ignoring the way the boy keeps glancing over. Ignoring the way he _likes_  it.

Much later, when orientation is over and done with, Julian realizes he has real, actual _friends_  here. He has _friends_ , and he likes it. Likes the easy laughter, the dumb jokes Derek and Logan tell each other. Likes the casual way Logan will sling an arm around Julian’s shoulders and how Derek always squeezes his arm when they pass in the hall.

He likes having people to talk to, people who don’t judge him for his name or his parents or his job.

But when he’s staring at Logan across the room one day and finally identifies that warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach, he recoils in horror.

He likes having friends.

But this? This traitorous, butterfly-induced swoop he feels when green eyes meet his?

He _hates_  this.

 

_Words fall through me_

_And always fool me_

_And I can't react_

Julian Larson is kind of an asshole, Logan decides.

"You’re never even _around_ , Jules! You’ve been off in Hollywood for _two months_ , and now that you’re back you get to suddenly tell me how to live my life?”

Julian just rolls his eyes, seemingly unbothered when Logan’s fist connects with the wall.

“Well nobody else seems to have the balls to tell you when you’re being ridiculous, so I guess it’s up to me.”

“ _Bullshit!”_ Logan spits, shoving at Julian’s chest, and _why isn’t he reacting_?

Unlike Derek, Julian just _stands_  there as Logan rants, arms crossed calmly over his chest. It infuriates Logan for some reason, and rage clouds his vision.

He blinks, and Julian’s suddenly on the floor, slumped against the wall, staring up at Logan with an expression now tinged with hurt.

“Fuck,” Logan says, taking a step back, “Jules I...oh god. I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.”

“Do you feel better?”

“I...what?”

Julian pushes himself to his feet, wincing a bit - fuck, he’s definitely favoring one side of his body - and levels a steady look at Logan.

“Did it help? Do you feel better?”

Logan takes a breath, evaluating.

“I’m...I’m not angry, anymore,” he admits, finally.

Julian stares at him a moment longer, considering.

“Good,” he says, after a while.

Before Logan can say anything else, Julian sweeps from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

It’s true, that he doesn’t feel angry anymore.

But that final look on Julian’s face, of pain and betrayal...

That feels almost worse.

 

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they're meant_

_Will play themselves out_

Concert tickets.

Restaurant reservations.

Front-row tickets to Broadway shows.

It’s fucking _pathetic_ , the amount of time and money he’s invested in Logan’s relationships.

He’s never tried this hard for _himself_ , but the second he hears Logan lament about how “Blaine wanted to see _Wicked_  so bad, and tickets were all sold out”? _That’ll_  make him call in every favor he has.

Logan’s always grateful, of course, promising Julian he’ll make it up to him. Gathering Julian into a bear hug and kissing his forehead, holding on _just_  long enough that Julian can almost pretend...

But he doesn’t.

Because isn’t that even _more_  pathetic?

He won’t even entertain the idea that Logan will ever _actually_  hold him like that. That Logan will look at _him_ the way he looks at those other boys, will plan extravagant dates and write songs about _Julian_.

He thinks maybe this will help, though.

If he can do this for Logan, can do everything in his power to keep him happy, then maybe his brain and his stupid, _stupid_  heart will finally get the message to give up.

But then he catches Logan outside, sweetly kissing Blaine goodnight, and feels that same painful twist in his gut, and knows it isn’t enough. 

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You'll make it now_

Logan knows he’s a hard person to get along with, sometimes.

He has anger issues. He’s stubborn. He makes rash decisions and loses patience too easily.

But is he really so awful his own _parents_ can’t love him?

His phone is clutched tightly in his hand, “ _Dad”_ still lighting up the screen even though John had already hung up.

“Fuck!” he screams, and throws his cell against the wall with all his strength, “ _Fuck_!”

For the next few minutes, everything in his room his fair game. Fencing trophies, textbooks, coffee mugs. Everything gets thrown at a wall, a window, his door. When he’s exhausted his energy, he slides down the wall, nails digging  painfully into his palms, face buried in his arms.

He doesn’t look up when his door clicks open, or when soft footsteps make their way across broken glass and ripped papers.

Julian doesn’t say anything as he sits beside Logan, but he does reach for his hands, tugging until Logan uncurls his fists. Logan hears a sharp intake of breath, and Julian moves away for a moment before returning with a damp cloth.

He looks up when Julian takes his hands again.

“You’re bleeding,” the actor says matter-of-factly, holding up Logan’s palm. Small drops of blood dot the skin, where Logan’s nails had dug in too hard.

Julian wipes his hands clean, gently examining them until he’s satisfied. Logan just watches, numbly.

“...I broke my keyboard,” he says finally, and Julian looks up.

“Yeah. The window, too.”

Logan glances over to see that yes, his window is shattered, the curtains now blowing in the breeze.

“I’m so fucked up,” he blurts out, voice catching on a sob, “Why can’t I just be _normal_?”

Julian shifts to sit beside him, one hand still tangled with his.

“You’re not fucked up,” he says firmly, “You’re not, okay? Everyone gets emotional sometimes.” 

“ _You_  don’t,” Logan says, “ _You_  never feel like this.”

Julian’s quiet for several moments.

“Maybe I’m just better at hiding it.”

 

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me_

_And I can't go back_

_Moods that take me and erase me_

_And I'm painted black_

It hurts more than it usually does, watching Logan pine after Kurt. It’s always _hurt_ , but this pain is something different, something deeper and sadder and so overwhelming Julian wants to claw out his heart for just a moment of relief.

 _It’ll never be me,_  he thinks, curled up in his bed later that night, _no matter how hard I try, not matter how much I want. It’s never going to be me._

It’s not a new realization, per say, that Logan will never choose him. But it’s more solid, somehow. More real. 

He can feel it through his whole body, the hurt and the jealousy and the disappointment and despair. It’s tearing him open, leaving him raw and exposed and _broken_. He’s sick of feeling like this, like he’s not good enough, like he doesn’t _matter_.

Logan doesn’t love him, and he never will. And Julian knows, suddenly, that he can’t do this anymore. 

He can’t stay and watch, can’t help and _hurt_. Not anymore.

He’ll leave, he decides. For good, this time. 

He just wants to stop _hurting_.

_  
You have suffered enough_

_And warred with yourself_

_It's time that you won_

Julian’s recovery is going well, the doctors all say. But it still feels so painfully, frustratingly _slow_.

Logan watches from his chair as Julian struggles to walk more than a few feet unassisted, clenches his fists as the brunet clings to his physical therapist and gasps for breath. 

He _hates_  this, hates watching uselessly as Julian fights his own body to cooperate. Hates seeing the tears Julian’s struggling to hold back when he fails, the tense lines of his shoulders when the therapist suggests they call it a day.

Julian’s silent on the car ride home, just as he’s been every day since Logan and Derek had flown out to California to help. 

“Jules...” Logan starts as they sit in traffic, “Jules you need to stop beating yourself up over this. They said you’re doing great.”

“Don’t,” Julian spits out, “don’t try to make me feel better, Logan. I’m fucking _pathetic_  and I know it, okay? I can’t even _walk_! I can barely...my fucking _lungs_  won’t work and I’m not _...”_

He trails off, taking a few shaky breaths as he tries in vain to stave off more tears.

Logan wants to reach for him, to squeeze his hand and promise that everything’s going to be okay. Wants to promise that _Julian’s_  going to be okay.

But he isn’t sure that’s true. 

And he can’t let Julian down. Not again.

 

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You'll make it now_

Things aren’t perfect.

His body still fights with him. His muscles are still weak, his joints fragile. He gets winded far faster than before. The nightmares still wake him up a few times a week, leaving him sweating and crying and reaching for _something_. Sometimes his brain just betrays him, shocking him out of nowhere with memories of _fire_  and _blood_ and _pain_ and _death_...

But he isn’t alone.

When he’s struggling to walk, to carry anything heavy, Logan or Derek are always there. They’re trying to be subtle about it, he knows, when Derek swipes a stack of books from Julian’s hand or when Logan wraps an arm around his waist before he loses his balance. 

When his lungs fail him, when his breath comes in gasps even though he’s only _walking_ , one of them will pause, pretending to admire a tree or a window display or check a text message. They never say anything, but Logan will rub his back and Derek will share his water, and eventually Julian can carry on.

When he wakes up screaming from nightmares, one of them is always already there. They’d moved all his things, when his mom agreed to let him come back. His room joins both Derek’s and Logan’s now, and one of them will always hear him when he starts to cry out. He’s woken to Derek holding his hand, to Logan slipping into bed beside him, to both of them wrapping arms around his waist. He can never sleep again, after, and so they’ll turn on the tv and sit in silence, watching whatever happens to be on until Julian can no longer keep his eyes open.

When the flashbacks hit, when he feels the panic rising in his chest and the repetitive mantra of _myfaultmyfaultmyfault_ , Logan’s always the one to talk him down. The one to explain that nobody blames him, not a single person resents him for any of it. He holds Julian through the tears, counts his breaths for him, brushes the hair from his face.

Julian wants to _cry_  with how much it means to him, them being there without being asked. Them _caring_ , the way so few people have.

_Falling slowly sing your melody_

_I'll sing along..._

The last notes of the song reveberate through the air, and Julian smiles shakily.

“Sorry it wasn’t that good,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “Talking isn’t hard anymore, but singing...still working on the lung capacity for that, I guess.”

Logan shakes his head, staring down at Julian with an expression somewhat akin to _awe_.

“No,” he laughs, lightly, “That...that was pretty perfect, Jules. Sometimes I forget you’re not half-bad at singing.”

“Oh please,” Julian scowls, “I bet I could get a record deal before _you_ , Wright.”

Logan grins, “There’s the egotistical diva I know.”

Julian’s lips quirk upwards for a moment before he looks away, fingers dancing over the piano keys.

“So,” he says finally, “Who was it for?”

“Who was what for?”

“The song,” Julian clarifies, “You only ask me to sing with you when you’re practicing to impress someone. You haven’t talked about Kurt in months, so it’s got to be someone new.”

“...yeah. Yeah I guess you could say that.”

Julian swallows hard, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Do I know him?” he asks, trying to make his voice light, uncaring.

“Yes,” Logan’s smiling, softly, but Julian can’t look up.

“Well. I hope it works out.”

“Yeah,” Logan breathes, “So do I.”

Julian can feel the hurt again, knows the tears are just minutes away from coming. He starts to rise from the bench, but a hand on his stops him. He freezes, gaze darting up to Logan’s face.

The blond is smiling softly, eyes fixed on Julian’s. His free hand comes up, brushing a stray lock of hair from Julian’s forehead.

“I _really_  hope this one works out.”


End file.
